One After 2011
by TheLef318
Summary: The Beatles are time warped to the present and meet a new friend. As they progress, they start to learn more about themselves and the world around them. They soon find out that their music is coming to life . . . literally. Rated T for mild curse language.
1. Snapped Me Strings

**Chapter 1: Snapped me Strings**

"Yeh' all ready now, lads?"

_So, this was it, _I thought. Coming all the way here to the US once again. I was amazed at how fast Beatlemania spread out here, in every single city, county and God knows what. A year had passed since our first appearance on the Ed Sullivan show. Hell, we didn't even know who the bloke was when we first landed. Now we're here, in New York, the city that never sleeps as they call it, at Shea Stadium, about to go live to a sold out dome.

"Ey' Ringo, yer suit's on backwards" Paulyelled.

"Ah, wha?" Ringo hastily checked his tux.

"Ha, its fine, I'm just messin' with ya son." Paul said.

I laughed. Messing with people, that's what we loved, especially with ourselves.

"Oh, shut yer gob Harrison." Ringo snapped at me.

Yes, that was me, George Harrison, the quiet and youngest Beatle, the lead guitarist, the Scouse of Distinction.

"Alright, lads. Its showtime!" Brian walked in the dressing room. "I hope you lot fixed yourselves up. Can't go out there looking like death run over now."

"Got it Eppy." Paul, Ringo and I said in unison.

"Hey," Brian paused, "Where's John?"

"Hangin' around the steps. Said he'll throw a fit waiting for us to tidy ourselves like them birds". Ringo said.

"And usually I'm the one ready first." Paul smirked.

"Well, you best carry along now. The fans are waiting; they're dying just to see you four set your feet on the grass!"

The three of us rushed out as I grabbed my 1964 Gretsch, only to nearly get hit smack in the face from carelessness into John.

"C'mon you guys. Can't you stay still for a sec?" I could see the faint smile in John's lips.

We rushed out from underground, and we could hear the fans scream so loud it could give you brain damage. We went up the stage, Paul greeted them as usual, and then we started playing. I made sure not to miss a single note in any song. It enlightened me, playing to all these Americans, just wanting to make sure their satisfaction was fulfilled.

I decided to glance around at the audience. You see, usually in most of our concerts, there were always these people part of the audience not like the others. Instead of screaming our names at the top of their lungs, they would just hum to themselves, in their own happy place. My mind still on playing the song, I looked around and saw a young boy who looked like he was from the West. With his cowboyish uniform and raccoon eyes. Then I saw four men with funny mustaches. They looked EXACTLY like us, it was freaky really.

Then we did the usual autograph signing and stuff. There were hordes of girls piling up. Like always, all the girls want to marry us (sorry for the ones that want John and Ringo, they're already taken). I wonder if they ever lose their voices screaming whenever they see us.

After the concert we went back to our hotel room, tired as a flat tire.

We all chatted for a while, had a short smoke, then finally went to bed. I was sharing with Ringo as usual.

"Well, its been a hard day, hasn't it George?" Ringo asked me.

"Yeah, I guess." I sleepily said to him.

"Boy, yer a tired one, aren't ya?" He laughed. "Alright, Imma let you take that beauty rest of yours. Night George."

"Night Rings," I snored in an instant.

…..

"Okay Dan, I think this is a good building to search, but why are we even here in the first place?"

"I already told you, Nancy! We're catching that fiendish little raccoon."

"But Dan, he's my –"  
"Boyfriend? Whatever! Look, we just came in through that bathroom window, I'm tired and sweating, and there's probably somebody sleeping here right now, so shut it! I didn't come all the way to New York to hear your babbling. Now let's move!'

Dan grabbed Nancy by the arm and they both crept slowly out of the bathroom and checked each room one by one. They checked the first room.

"Shh, there's somebody here in this bedroom." Dan said. "You go take a look while I wait here. Tell me if you see him. Remember, you're his bait. He'll come scampering to you the moment he sees you."

"But Dan-"

"Go!"

Nancy slowly entered the room, nearly tripping from her anxiousness and Dan's glare. She looked at the two sleeping men in front of her. The first had hair until the tip of his ears and almond-shaped eyes. The other . . .

"Dan!" she whispered.

"What is it?" he suddenly said.

"This guy here, he looks just like Rocky! He doesn't have any raccoon features but-"

"Lemme see!" He shoved Nancy out of the way and looked at the sleeping man's face. He realized something and his devilish smile dropped.

"We gotta get outta here." Dan said, rushing to leave.

"But why?" Nancy asked.

"Just follow me. Now." Dan literally ran out of the room, kicking everything in his path. Nancy followed, jumping over everything Dan left in ruined. Neither of them bothered to keep quiet. They entered the other room, damaging the things there too, and jumped out the window.

….

" The bloody hell was THAT?" I could hear John yelling from the other room.

I turned on the lights. I looked bug-eyed at the mess around us, and so did Ringo. The entire room was in ruins, and the window was broken. It looked like someone broke in.

"Ringo, our instruments . . ." I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

"THEY'RE FUCKIN' DESTROYED!" Paul burst into our room, holding his Hofner bass, or, what _was _his bass, at least.

John came in too with his guitar. The fret board was in half. And with the look he was giving us, I knew something went down.

"Me drum sticks are broken! At least there's no real damage to me drums," Ringo calmly stated.

"Lucky for you Ringo! I snapped me strings and just look at those two!" I pointed at John and Paul.

"Have we been robbed? Must be some fan girls . . ." I said.

"Yeah, fan girls probably, but everything seems to be here, _destroyed and all_," Paul grumpily replied.

"Who would do this?" John growled.

"I dunno John, but whoever did, they left something on George's bed," Paul pointed to a small paper next to me.

I picked the paper up and unfolded it. "Hey, this is the bloke I saw in the crowd at Shea!" It was a photo of the guy with the raccoon eyes. I flipped the paper and there was a note. I read it aloud to everyone.

If you are reading this right now, it's no mistake you found this letter. Winston, James, Harold, Richard, those may not be the names you are more known for, but they are still your names. Anyway, you should be in New York by now. If you are, there is a building called the Dakota. It's on 1 West 72nd street. Just go to the receptionist and say you're looking for Mr. Lennon. Get the key, go to the unit and go in. Nobody lives there but there is a small box on the couch. Open it, and find out the rest for yourself. Please, you must do this. I made no mistake when I wrote this letter . . . Beatles. Just trust me on this. Good day and good luck on your adventure.

With peace and love,

Lil, Nancy, Magill, whatever you want to call me.

"So it was a fan girl!" Ringo shouted.

"What's this letter supposed to mean? We're supposed to find some box which we don't even know what could possibly be inside? She even knows our other names for crying out loud!" Paul shrieked.

"And Mr. Lennon, is that supposed to be John? I asked.

"Calm down Paul. But he's right, is this stuff legit?" John was quizzical.

"We don't even know what could be there. Is there even a building called the Dakota?" Ringo wondered

"It's risky yes, but aren't all great things risky? So, whaddya say boys . . . are we in or not?" I said with confidence.

We all paused for a moment, thinking to ourselves. Then John finally snapped up.

"To the Dakota it is."


	2. The Newspaper Taxi

Chapter 2: The Newspaper Taxi

Just brilliant it was, huh. Today we got a sold-out concert, destroyed instruments, and some letter that makes no sense. Could a Beatle's life get any weirder?

I finally decided to get off my arse and ask, "Are you sure we're going John? That piece of paper doesn't seem legit to me. It could be a phony, and when we get to the Dakota we could be kidnapped, or harassed, or even-"

"Quiet, McCartney. You're acting more protective than Aunt Mimi."

"But I mean, err, uh, oh forget it! Let's just vote. All in favor of going . . .?" John held up his hand right away, followed by George, took Ringo quite a while, and that left me, just standing there.

"Oh fine. But if we all get in trouble, I'm not getting any of it."

"Come on Paul," George said. "It's a good and fun risk. Besides, we'll protect each other."

"I agree with George," Ringo added.

"Alright, little girls! If we're going, we better leave _now_. If the building isn't open yet, we just sleep through it. Oh, and bring your instruments and everything else you need."

"Our _broken_ instruments? John, what the hell will we do with these?" I asked.

"Aww, don't worry. I bet they still have a good sound to them," John strummed his guitar. We all covered our ears in pain and the last remaining glass shard on the broken window fell off.

"Well, that was worse than I expected, but we could probably get it fixed somewhere," I noticed that John was acting rather positive and cheerful.

_Yeah, sure, we could still fix a guitar cut in half and some squished drums_, I thought.

…...

So we all packed our stuff (only because John said he would kick our arses if we didn't). I actually brought normal stuff unlike the others, and some toiletries. George's bag was obviously packed with food, and Ringo grabbed anything important he found in the apartment. John barely packed anything even though he forced the rest of us to, but offered to carry our instruments. I guessed it was a fair share, though. That boy could carry all of us on one pinky and still punch a bloke with his free hand.

Then I suddenly realized, "But what about Eppy, Mal and the others? It won't be long before they find out that we've gone."

"Well I'll take my chances," John said.

We tip-toed one by one out of the apartment and shut the door, hoping no one would get suspicious. Then we ended up arguing if we should take the stairs or the elevator, but we ended up taking the stairs anyways. It was just from the fifth floor to ground level and I thought the others could really use the exercise. I thought I was fit enough. It was the others that needed -alright, I admit it. I'm fat. Happy?

At the lobby we saw that the guard was drowsing off. _Typical around here I guess_, I thought.

We stood outside the entrance, trying to get a ride to the Dakota.

"You think we should catch a ride on a lorry?" Ringo asked.

"Ringo, we're not in England!" George shot back. "There aren't any double-deckers I've seen. Might as well hail a cab."

We spent around ten minutes just trying to get a taxi, but it was so dark they probably couldn't see us waving our arms like mad at them.

George sat down and sighed. "Can't we just walk there?"

"Hey, it could be far. I say we just be patient and wait for someone to pick us up." John continued to search.

"Ha, like you're ever patient John."

" Well I feel pretty good right now. Hey look! Told ya lads we'd make it."

It looked like John was right. A taxi was finally heading our way. But I thought they were supposed to be yellow? This one definitely wasn't. It was all in different shades of gray. It looked like . . .

"Is it covered in_ newspapers_?!" Ringo said in disbelief.

"Well I don't care. I'm getting in!" John carelessly threw our instruments inside the taxi and went in, and we followed holding our bags. Literally every inch except the windows of the taxi was covered in newspapers. But it didn't look like it was covered in newspapers, more like the taxi itself was made of newspapers.

"Bah, that's ridiculous," I said to myself.

"You said something?"

"It's nothing." But I still wondered, was it all real?

"You boys look pretty prepared! Are you heading anywhere important?" the chauffer asked us.

"You can count on that," George said, him and the others trying to ignore the fact that they were riding in a vehicle made out of paper. "We're going to the Dakota."

At that the chauffer started to head there. "That place, it holds a lot of meaning, you know." The four of us decided to not pay attention to the chauffer and mind our own business. I gazed out the window, catching glimpses of all the people and places. Everyone and everything was still bustling about just like in the daytime. I also started to think about Eppy. Had he already checked our room only to find us gone? He's probably sent someone to look for us. Oh God, we're probably being tailed right now.

I told myself I was exaggerating and tried to relax. The chauffer was still talking, and I heard stuff like, "his second son, he was such a beautiful boy!" and "I feel sympathy for him. Mr. Lennon missed his friends and family and wanted to return home, but alas, before he could he was – oh look, he we are now," The other three excitedly grabbed their belongings and jumped out of the taxi like school kids on a fieldtrip. I hesitated for a moment then followed them, but I was full of questions. Was the chauffer talking about John? And before he was what? What happened to him before he could go back home? I quickly turned to ask the chauffer, but just like that, he was gone, his cab and all.

"You okay Paulie? You look kinda shaken," John told me.

"I'm just sick from the ride. Really I'm okay," I forced a smile and headed straight to the building.

" Y'know, that chauffer was strange. Didn't even care we were the Beatles at all." Ringo said.

"Well, that's what ya probably get when you drive around in a heap of paper," We all laughed at George's joke.

As we entered the Dakota, we were just glad to know that the letter actually gave us an existing place. Next step, ask for Mr. Lennon.

_Mr. Lennon, _I remembered the chauffer talking about him. Who is he really? A hidden relative of John's, perhaps?

We all walked to the receptionist and asked for him.

"At this time of the morning, he'd usually tell you to, err, _piss off_, but I guess he would make an exception for you, or at least I hope so."

The receptionist gave us the key and we dashed for the elevator, then we remembered we brought a lot of stuff, so we took the stairs again. "Yeah lads, you're all calories on legs!" John said before we had another, more tiresome go at the stairs. We finally reached the floor and opened the room.

"Wait, didn't the letter say nobody lived here and there was a box inside for us?" George asked.

"Yup, it did." Ringo was first to go in, and he looked around. "Not that fancy of an apartment. The place is a mess."

"We all looked for it on the couch, just as the letter said. It wasn't there at all.

"I knew it! We've been tricked!" I kicked aside a bunch of garbage.

"Wait," John said,"I know where it is." He went to the balcony and came back. And sure enough, he was holding a box in his hands.

"Where d'you get it?" Ringo asked.

"There's a couch in the balcony. Now let's open this thing."

We all struggled trying to pull off the cover until somebody finally realized that we had to unlock it with the key. Such geniuses we were. Everyone was so eager to look at the box's contents. John dumped them out. There were four strange little wristband thingies.

"What are they?"

"I dunno. Let's wear 'em!"

Each of us got one for ourselves and put it on. It was like a watch, but there was like a mini tv screen where the clock was supposed to be. It still told time, but in actual numbers. It read 5:14 AM. There were also little button on the side of the watch. I pressed one, and it switched to a different screen. The time disappeared and was replaced with INCOMING VOICE MESSAGE. ACCEPT/DECLINE

"This. Is. So. Gear." I said.

"It's like some futuristic invention!" John said.

"It says here I have an incoming voice message."

"What, somebody's trying to speak to you through a letter from the post office?"

"I don't know George but I accepted it." I said

I had already touched the word accept (You could touch the screen! How amazing was that?) and a voice suddenly spoke. All of us yelped in surprise and looked around to see who was talking, but we didn't take long to realize it was the watch.

"Greetings Beatles!" The voice said. "If you are hearing this right now, it means you followed Magill's instructions and came to the Dakota. By the way, please keep these watches, they're terribly expensive and I can't afford to buy another one if you break one. Also, I can't explain the details fully right now. I'll let my friend do that for me later, or in your case 47 years from now since she's from the future. Lemme just give you a summary of the plan. Bad news, you guys kinda messed up some stuff, so you go fix them. You are being sent to the year 2012 where you will meet my friend and I as soon as possible. Don't attract attention, don't talk to any old people or people wearing Beatle merchandise, in short, DON'T BE IDIOTS. I'll give you one piece of advice: Follow the sheepdog. Well I hope to see you in 47 years! This is Rocky speaking, buh-bye folks!"

"WHAT?"

"NO, WAIT!"

"THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!"

The four of us started to panic. A large swirling vortex appeared in front of us and sucked in all our belongings. We all gave each other a look of anxiety and before we knew it, we were gone.


	3. Martha and Marty

Chapter 3: Martha and Marty

"Ughh, what the heck just happened?"

"Guys? You there?"

"I feel weak."

"Please just be a dream . . ."

I opened my eyes only to find a blinding white light. After my sight settled down, I saw the other three sprawled on the floor just as I was, all moaning like dying pigs. I tried to remember what happened the other night. _We went to the Dakota, we're here right now. And the watches . . ._

"I checked my arm to see if it was still there, and it was. GOOD MORNING, RINGO was on the screen, along with other things. It said it was 7:35 AM on the 16th of August 2012 . . .

Wait a minute . . . 2012?

"Ey lads," I said. My voice sounded like grinding metal. "What day is it today?"

"Um, August 16," Paul replied.

"I know that, but _what year_?"

"C'mon now Rings, you're acting like we time-traveled . . . the message last night!" John said

"Exactly! He said something about 47 years later. Guess what, we've been sleeping here for 47 years."

"More like we skipped over 47 years and were left unconscious for the entire night . . ." George said.

"Yeah, sure, get technical. The point is we are in the bloody FUTURE. Last night that guy who was talking to us, his name was Rocky or something, told us to follow the sheepdog. And since the last instructions worked, I bet this'll work out just fine too." I said.

"Alright then, I guess we better leave this building and find a widdle doggie – woggie. Oh, I wish Martha were here right now." Paul said.

John made a face, the kind you make when you know you're about to get in trouble. " Umm, hehe, yeah, about that . . ."

"Save it for later, let's go!" George shoved us out of the apartment and tossed us our bags. John took the instruments, taking a look at my drums before picking them up, and got out before we tried to slam the door on his slow arse.

"You're even slower than Paul when he's putting on his mascara!" I teased John.

"I swear Ringo, I will _kill_ you!"

"Sorry."

We had a third round at "Stairs vs Elevator" but elevator won this time. Plus, they looked much bigger now.

When we got there, we couldn't open the doors. We tried every way possible, pushing, pulling, sliding our fingers and having ourselves headbutt into it one by one (okay, that last one was stupid).

George kicked the doors of the elevator. "How the hell do we operate these?"

Then a man walked up to one of the other elevators and pressed a button next to it. _Oh, so that's how you operate it._ He was dressed strangely, in a tight gray buttoned shirt and blue denim pants. He was wearing a pair of what looked like earphones, but they were much smaller. He was singing to himself, ". . . so let it out and let it in, Hey Jude begin . . ."

_Hmph, not a bad song, _I thought. There was a beep, and the elevator doors opened by themselves. The man walked in and the doors closed.

"Wow, technology these days isn't pretty bad," Paul said.

We did the exact same thing and before we knew it, we were coming out the first floor. We were about to leave when John grabbed my shoulder.

"Wait, we can't go out just like this! People will recognize us!"

"So? We're the Beatles. Everybody recognizes us."

John had to manage himself from doing a facepalm. "Ringo, do you not know the meaning of 47 YEARS IN THE FUTURE? I know people will recognize us, but they'll freak out! We should probably be in retirement homes by now, and I bet you look like a 30 year old Italian mobster."

"Alright then, how do you suppose we get out of here?"

…...

I. Am. Never. Listening. To John. Ever. Again.

I groaned as I looked at myself. Alright, let me give you the whole story. John had left us for a while and came back with a bunch of clothes and took us to a closet. He told us to change into them. It looked like he had stolen the clothes from the laundry room (I don't know _how_ he got in there, so don't ask me). When we were all finished, I took a look in the mirror and felt like fainting. They were the ugliest clothes I had ever seen. A plaid sweater vest and beige pants.

"You're not the only one Ringo," George said. He was wearing a superhero shirt and tight jeans which showed his long skinny legs. I had to stifle a laugh so George wouldn't strangle me.

"I hate my life." Paul was wearing a purple shirt with the word SWAG on it. If I recall correctly, SWAG is an acronym for 'Secretly We Are Gay'. Even worse, he had baggy pants that were too big for him that his boxers were slightly showing. Now this I couldn't handle anymore. Both George and I doubled over and rolled on the floor laughing our heads off. Paul just stood there staring at us. "John picked these clothes on purpose, didn't he?"

"You bet I did!" We all looked in his direction and gasped.

"John, what the flipping hell are you wearing?"

He wasn't wearing clothes. In fact, it was an animal costume. It covered his whole body except for his mouth where he put fake tusks. It was obvious that he was a walrus.

Skipping everything else that happened including John wasting our time jumping around yelling, 'goo goo g'joob', we left and took a cab to Central Park.

After the ride, everybody was staring at John. Thank God they weren't staring at the rest of us. But instead of giving us weird looks, the people, mostly the old folks, had a kind laugh at him. One old woman even approached him and said, "You lovely young man, you remind me of John Lennon. You're just like him!" She smiled and John smiled back. And since his face was covered by the costume, she didn't recognize him. Unlike Paul, George and I, who had to constantly cover our faces pretending the sun was getting in our eyes.

"Weren't you telling me something awhile ago, John? About Martha?" Paul asked.

"Oh, yes, um, right. Err, y'see . . ."

"Yes?"

Me and George stopped walking and listened to their conversation.

"Um, well, you asked Mike to look after her while we were in America, right?"

"Yeah, why?

"I . . . think I saw her follow us into the Dakota last night."

"Hey, watch out!"

The four of us turned to see a young girl chasing her dog on the loose.

The dog nearly ran into us, but fortunately we got out of the way. "Sorry, sirs!" the girl said as she ran off.

"Lads! Did you see that? That was a sheepdog!" I shouted to the others.

"Well, we don't need to be told, do we? Let's follow it!"

We ran and ran, jumping over benches and bumping into young couples. After several minor casualties and dozens of "'Scuse me, sorry"'s, we were finally able to track down the dog and corner it at the end of an alleyway, with the girl already holding it's leash.

"Hey look, I'm sorry," the girl said. "I know my dog Marty bumped into you, but did you really have to chase me all the way down here?"

"His name's Marty?" Paul asked.

"Yeah. I named him after Martha, Paul McCartney's sheepdog. Speaking of McCartney, I've always longed to meet him, well, all four Beatles actually . . . and why is that guy wearing a John Lennon's walrus costume?" She pointed to John.

"Wait, this was John Lennon's?" John asked. The four of us shrieked in amazement.

"_Woof, woof_!" I could hear something scampering to us. It was another sheepdog. It happily ran to Paul and snuggled next to him.

"Martha?" Paul looked at the sheepdog.

"I knew she was followin' us!" John shouted

"You have a sheepdog named Martha too? Wait a minute, well, this must be a crazy question for you but, are you Paul McCartney? Are the four of you the _Beatles_?" I could see the girl's face light up a bit.

"Err . . ." Paul looked at us for help. Then George walked over to the girl and told her, "Well, looks like you got your wish granted after all."


	4. Beatle HQ

**Hey, wassup? Thanks for all the awesome reviews! Sorry, THIS CHAPTER IS SUPER LATE. I've been really busy. But anyways, here ya go! I'm sorry if there ain't enough John narrating parts.**

Chapter 4: Beatle HQ

"Ehh heh heh heh . . . right . . . you're the Beatles . . ." the girl was practically jumping about in joy. She even had to touch George's face to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

"Um, right. So, what did you say your name was?" I asked her. She was kind of shaking when she was talking to me. Not the kind of shaking you do when you're excited, the kind when you're afraid.

"Actually, I didn't. Name's Lauren by the way." She walked up to Ringo. "Wow, I know you guys are less than six feet tall, but I didn't know I was almost as tall as Ringo!" She compared her height with Ringo's. "I feel tall for my age."

"And how old are you?" Paul asked.

"Twelve, almost thirteen."

"You're joking, right?"

"Hey, I said I was almost thirteen. Come on! I'll take you to where I stay. Then, you tell me about your story. Oh, and John? You might wanna change." She took a look at my costume. Humph! This costume's gear. Maybe I'll even keep it. We followed Lauren out of the alleyway, with her dog Marty playing with Martha.

"How the heck did Martha get here anyway? It's not like Mike mailed her to New York," Paul was still in confusion.

"Hehe, maybe he _e-mailed_ her instead!" Lauren was looking at us, waiting until we got the joke.

"I don't get it." George said.

Lauren blushed. "Right, you're from the 60's. Boy, there's a lot of explaining all of us need to do."

After around ten minutes or so, we reached Lauren's house, or should I say, her _apartment_.

"Dad, you there? Well, looks like he's out somewhere." Lauren opened the door and let us inside. The place wasn't a mess, but it was too small and cramped for the five of us to fit in the door, including two Old English Sheepdogs.

I changed into some regular clothes and left the costume on the floor. After I laid down our instruments, I sat down on the sofa with the others.

"You guys want something to eat?" Lauren pointed to her fridge. "It's eat all you can.

Naturally, George was first to reach for food.

"Oi George! Didn't you already pack food for yourself?" Paul asked.

"Umm, what did'ja say?" George replied with a full mouth. "Sorry, can't hear ya. I'm too busy enjoying me breakfast."

"Alright guys, since you're on my turf, you get to follow my rules. First of all, no getting high here." She walked towards us. "And that means, no_ smoking_," she pulled out three full cigarette boxes from George's pockets. "No _drugs_," a whole bag of weed tumbled out of Paul's belongings. "No _alcohol_," ten bottles of beer were found inside of Ringo's drum set. "And most certainly," She gave me a devilish look. "No crazy Lennon shenanigans."

Lauren confiscated all our "goodies" and locked them in a closet. "Aww, don't worry, you won't be needing those. Okay, now it's your turn. How did you come here to the future?"

"Well, it's a long story." I began. I told her about Magill's letter and Rocky's picture. Even about the newspaper taxi, the Dakota, "Mr. Lennon", and finally we showed her the watches where Rocky was speaking to us.

"So, whaddya think?"

"Do you still have the letter?" Lauren was intent on reading it.

"Yup, right in here," George pulled it out from his pocket and gave it to her.

She took it from him and immediately began reading it.

After she was done, she looked up and smiled in amusement. "Are you sure this is legit?"

"That's what I asked," I said.

"And is this guy supposed to be Rocky Raccoon?"

"Rocky Buffoon?" Ringo asked.

"No, Rocky _Raccoon_. And FYI, he's a character in one of your songs."

"Pfft. And what genius came up with that kind of a song about some raccoon guy?" Paul boasted.

"You did Paul. So stop being such a smart-alec and shut up."

George, Ringo and I all laughed at Paul while he turned red.

"Not only that, there were a bunch of other song references you heard or saw on your way until you met me."

"Like what?" I was interested in knowing.

"Um, I don't think I should tell you. I don't want to spoil your own songs after all."

"Oh, I understand," I nodded my head but still desperately wanted to find out.

After all of us were done eating, Lauren let us explore her house. "Feel free to look around. Explore the wonders of today's technology." So the first thing we did was go to a long black rectangular thingamajig connected to a bunch of wires.

"What's this do?" Ringo asked.

"Oh, that's a television," Lauren replied. "A 32-inch flat screen in fact."

"Gear," I said. " And since this is the future, I bet there's more channels right? Ah, lemme guess, I bet there's over 50!"

"Umm, I may not have this many, but there are over 700 worldwide."

"Oh, why can't we live in this time?" Paul said.

We checked a bunch of other cool stuff, like the cellphone ( a phone and camera in one? Amazing, right?), EyePad (or however you spell it). That one was my favorite. You could practically put anything and it. But the best for me part was, if you wanted to listen to a particular song, you could just fish it out without buying an LP or anything!

"C'mon, let's have a walk outside. Maybe we could go to a music store." So the five of us left the two dogs and went out.

…...

Today was the best day of my life. Would anyone believe that I actually met the Beatles? Not that I fangirl over them or anything (ok, maybe I do sometimes), but they are some of the greatest musicians to walk this planet, you know what I mean?

So we were just walking down the sidewalk, chatting with each other on our way to the music shop. I was thinking that we could jam for a while. And since their instruments were destroyed, It looked like I had to buy exact replicas of those too.

But as we were crossing the street, I could feel something was wrong.

"Hey, you guys sense something?" I asked them

"Nope." They all replied in unison.

"Oh well, maybe it's my sixth Beatle sense," I murmered. I felt that someone or something was watching us. I started jogging slowly, while the others followed.

After we got back on the sidewalk, I quickly turned to look at the street again. I was about to keep walking again until I saw it. Any Beatlemaniac would know that particular car parked on the side. It was the white Volkswagen Beetle with it's well known plate number, 28IF.

Was it just some great coincidence that the Beatles were here and I saw the car? I didn't think it was. I pretended to ignore it. We were almost at the shop. I could just forget everything and relax inside. Almost there, I just have to grab the handle . . . but then I saw a figure or two lurking behind John.

"John, no!" I pulled him out of the way just as a bullet shot past him. All the people that were walking by started to run away screaming in terror. Some stayed in shock, watching the suspense.

"Guys, we gotta go." We tried to escape, but the man with the gun, along with his cronies grabbed the Beatles and I.

"Well, well, well. Looks like we finally hunted them down boys!" The man laughed. "And now is my chance to kill John Lennon."

"But you can't kill him, he's already dead!" I stupidly blurted out. The words came out of my mouth before I could stop myself. John, Paul, George and Ringo were looking at me, pleading for me to tell them if what I said was true.

"I don't care if he's dead or not, it's better if I ended his life much earlier than the old bastard deserved to live." The man raised his gun to John's chest, opposite to where he was actually shot. The rest of us screamed and shouted for him to stop, but the grip of the one holding me just worsened. I dared to look up to see his face. He was a young man, with blond hair and glasses. He didn't look so bad to me, until I saw the bloody silver hammer dangling from his belt.

As the man, who looked much of a cowboy, was a second away from pulling the trigger, somebody else tackled him to the ground. The Beatles and I were let go as the man's henchmen fought the tackler.

"Go, go while you can! Y'see that van over there? Get in and wait for me."

We did what he said and got in.

"Okay fellas, what just happened back there?" Paul asked. We were all shaken up. I remembered the Volkswagen and the man with the hammer, and there's only one person in the Beatle universe with a silver hammer . . .

"Um, guys?" I spoke up. "You did say you had to fix something in the future, right?"

"Well, that's what that Rocky guy said anyway." Ringo said.

"That hold-up was no coincidence. I recognize those guys! That's Dan, the one who tried to kill John, Maxwell Edison, a brutal serial killer and Bungalow Bill, a hunter. And last but not the least Rocky Raccoon himself, Dan's rival."

"He was at Shea stadium." George said.

"Why would they try to kill me?" John asked. I felt a lot of pity for him.

"Well . . . probably to end your career, even I don't know." I looked down.

Then the door of the van burst open. "Took care of 'em. Now, of to the headquarters!"

"Headquarters?" We all asked.

"Yeah, Beatle HQ! Being a Beatles fan yerself, I'm surprised you've nevah heard of it. Go GPS!"

"The van started up by itself and rushed off!"

"Holy crap! No one's driving the bloody thing! Ringo was panicking like hell.

"Relax guys, it's voice-controlled. It'll know where to go." I told them.

"Bloody future . . ."

"Alright fellas! Haven't properly introduced mahself. I'm Rocky Raccoon, and yes George, that was me at Shea stadium. I just love your old hits, even before you guys gone trippy."

"We went trippy?" Paul asked.

"What, you're surprised Paul? You even wrote a song about marijuana," I retorted. We all laughed and laughed.

"You must be jokin'!" John said.

We hadn't realized the van was slowing down, and it finally came to a stop at the docks.

"Why did we stop?" I asked.

"Oh boy, my friend, you're gonna love this." Rocky gave me a wink.

Suddenly a giant submarine popped out of the sea and layed down a bridge for us to drive across.

"Oh . . . my . . . Beatles!" This was the most amazing thing I had ever seen.

We entered the submarine and were lowered into it.

"What is this place?" George asked.

"Welcome my friends," Rocky began, "to Beatle HQ."


	5. Worst Rock Band Players Ever!

**Hey guys. Sorry, this took quite a while! I was so busy with other stuff. Anyways, here's the next chapter! Please review, and leave suggestions here. If you want a cameo in the story, tell me how you look and your role in the story. You can choose to be named or remain anonymous,**

**NOTE: I don't have The Beatles: Rock Band (though I wish I did) so sorry if some of the songs mentioned aren't in the game.**

Chapter 5: Worst Rock Band Players Ever!

GEORGE'S POV

The five of us took a seat on a couch in the center of the room we went in and Rocky spoke.

"So guys, this is Beatle HQ. This is a secret organization formed by _us_, the characters from the Beatles songs. You can call us Beatlings. The funny thing is, no Beatlemaniac knows about this, not even The Beatles themselves. Well, no one until this girl showed up." He pointed to Lauren.

"So, what do you do exactly?" John asked.

"It's our job to keep your world oblivious to our world, the one the Beatles unintentionally created. See, after we started existing, not all of us agreed to siding with one another. Some, like the ones you saw earlier, had been evil from the start. They went their own ways, causing trouble where they could. You have no _idea _how hard we work to keep the four of you away from harm."

"Wait. How did this all come down to meeting Lauren?" Ringo politely questioned.

"You told us to follow the sheepdog in the first place, after all," I said.

"Well, you were supposed to follow _Martha_, not her dog. When we found out you were chasing someone else, Martha had to run up to you. Both dogs are being brought here now."

"But . . . can I stay? Pleeease?" Lauren looked up to Rocky with the cutest puppy dog eyes I had ever seen, even more intimidating than Ringo's. Even I couldn't resist. "I promise not to tell anyone. Not even my dad. I told him I was going on vacation with a friend. I was supposed to go over there after walking Marty, but then I bumped into you. So, please?"

Rocky felt uneasy with those pleading dark brown eyes looking at him. " You can stay, but keep your promise."

"Yay! I high-fived Lauren. I kinda thought she was really cool, and by then we were already mates only having met for less than a day.

"Rocky," John said, "that gang you saved us from, their one of them was about to shoot me. But then Lauren said there was no need because I was already dead. I don't get it."

Lauren looked down, trying to hide her face. "I'm sorry I said that. I shouldn't have."

"Listen, John. There's a lot to explain, but I just can't now, but I promise I will when you're ready. Alright?" He was talking to John like a parent to his child.

". . . alright." John sighed.

….

After having our chat with Rocky, he allowed us to enjoy ourselves around the submarine. While John, Paul and Ringo went to their own interests, I followed Lauren to a bunch of instruments lying next to a television.

"Aww, sweet! They even got Rock Band here!" Lauren shouted.

"Rock Band?" I asked.

"It's a video game. See, instead of frets, these instruments have colored buttons on them. When you play, you gotta match the colors that appear. Let me demonstrate." Lauren turned on the TV and the game came on.

"_The Beatles: Rock Band_? Even better!" Lauren exclaimed.

"I watched as she picked the song "Boys" on lead guitar. I saw the animation on the TV; realistic looking versions of the Beatles and the audience, amazing really.

After completing the song, Lauren turned to me. "So, what do you think?"

"Are my ears really that big?" I made fun of my animated self. We laughed and she offered me to try. I grabbed the toy guitar and chose "Do You Want to Know a Secret". _Pfft, really. How hard can it be? _I thought.

But then when I started playing, I knew I was wrong. I was rushing to press the notes and fumbled with the buttons.

"You barely even got half the song!" Lauren doubled over. "I mean, you're playing _your own self_ and still you suck at it!"

"Hey, did you expect anything more from somebody from 1965?" I was attacking her with tickles when the other three came in.

"Having fun, eh? What's this?" John walked over to the TV.

"The Beatles . . . Rock Band?" Paul read.

"It's a video game," I replied.

"What's a video game?" Ringo asked me.

"Play it and see!" Lauren and I taught them how to play and we were off. We all used our respective instruments while Lauren sang.

"So, what song do you want to play?"

"Umm, what in the world is "I Am the Walrus"?"

"Yeah, and what's Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band?"

"Octopus's Garden?"

"_Why Don't We Do It in the Road?!_ Who the fuck wrote tha-"

"Just ignore the ones you don't know and pick something!"

"Alright! Let's go with "A Hard Day's Night."

Now, if _I _was bad in playing this game, then the others were even _worse_. Paul was sweating like a pig because the notes were so fast. John was improvising. Oh, and poor Ringo, he went haywire.

"_Twelve percent?!" _John was nuts about his score. "No way! I'm John _freaking _Lennon! The amazing leader of the Beatles! I can't have a score like that!"

"John, we all did as bad as you. So will you please shut up?" I stopped him.

"That was fun!" Lauren plopped down on the couch. "What else d'you wanna do?"

"Well, there's a music room where we can listen to our hits," Paul said. "It has all our albums, but Rocky said we're only allowed to listen up to Rubber Soul. But you on the other hand," He gestured towards Lauren, "Can listen to everything of course."

"Well, I understand. If we listen to our later one's, that would be considered cheating, right?" I said.

"You could probably listen to "Why Don't We Do It in the Road?" "Wild Honey Pie" and "You Know My Name (Look Up the Number". Those don't really have a wide variety of lyrics." Lauren said.

"Okay, seriously. Who wrote "Why Don't We Do It in the Road?" Paul asked.

Lauren turned red trying to keep herself from bursting out in laughter. "Well, y'see," Lauren started, "You were in India, and while on the bus, you looked out the window and saw two monkeys "doing it". And that's where it came from."

John clapped flatly. "Way to go, Paulie. Way to go."

…...

We were all chilling in the music room, listening to hits, sometimes our own amd sometimes others. But of course, no listening to hits of our own after 1965, and that included both our records as the Beatles and solo artists.

So we stuck to the oldies, until Ringo found this thing called "dubstep" and started dancing to it. Although it kinda got annoying, we joined in with him. Lauren was flipping through Beatles songs.

"Too overused . . . too depressing . . . too loud . . . drugs . . . more drugs . . . too short . . . too long . . . this isn't even a song!"

She rambled on and on for what seemed like forever as I got myself some Carl Perkins songs. I let myself slip in to the rhythm when I felt the submarine come to a stop. The five of us stopped the music to see where we were.

"Hey Rocky, why'd we stop?" We ran up to him.

"We've reached our destination. Welcome to London, guys. Home of Abbey Road studios, and home," Rocky gave us a subtle wink. "Of the real Beatle HQ: Pepperland!"


	6. Meet the Beatlings

**Hi again! I got kinda excited to make this chapter, since I already had the story in mind. Again, if you want a cameo in the story, tell me how you look and your role in the story. You can choose to be named or remain anonymous.**

**Oh, and I just gave a run-through of all the Beatlings. If you want to know more about any of them, just put it in a review of PM me about which character you want to learn about. **

Chapter 6: Meet the Beatlings

PAUL'S POV

We followed Rocky back to the entrance of the ship where Martha and Marty greeted us there.

"Hey girl," I patted Martha on the back while Lauren patted her dog as well.

I didn't recognize the place we were in. We couldn't go out yet but we all peeped through the windows. It was all dark, and my best guess was we were travelling way deep underground, in an underwater tunnel of some sort.

"Where are we?" I asked Rocky.

"This place is uncharted on the map. If anyone aside from us were to travel here, the tunnel wouldn't open for them."

"So you mean, it's like magic?" John beamed.

"Well, anything's possible if you're a Beatle, right?" Rocky gave a tip of his hat.

Then all of a sudden, we reached the end of the tunnel and light shined on the submarine.

"You can get off now." Rocky opened the door.

"Here? But we're in the middle of the sea!" George pointed out.

Rocky laughed, "Heheh. Who said all seas were watery?" and hopped off.

When I exited, I took a look at the place and my jaw dropped.

Rocky was right. There wasn't any water, only air. What was even more extraordinary was that there were _people_ and _buildings_ and _animals_.

I lost my voice in amazement. "Wh - what is this place?."

"I already told ya. You're in Pepperland, boys! Come on, everyone's gonna lose their marbles when they see you!" Rocky put his arms around our shoulders and led us in.

The people wore funny looking clothes of all shapes and colors. There were blackbirds singing on trees; A helter skelter that was probably miles high. If I were to list all the extraordinary things I saw here, you'd die from boredom (that is, if you're not a Beatle maniac).

"Attention, attention people!" Rocky yelled. All the Pepperlanders turned to look at him. "Make way for the Fab Four. You heard me right, the Beatles are here!"

Everyone gasped. Some in shock, some in amazement. They started murmuring to one another.

Rocky brought us to the stage in the middle of what seemed to be the town square. "If some of you are still confused, the Beatles are _not_ myths. They're the alter egos of our very own Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band."

"_Myths?!_ They think we're myths?" John hissed to us.

"That's funny, cause in our world, Sgt. Pepper's is a myth to us." Lauren said.

"Who are they?" Ringo asked.

"They're _you_, Ringo. Just with different names, costumes, style of music, and facial hair."

"They must be the men I saw at Shea Stadium too," George perked up.

"Really George, how many bloody crazy looking weirdos do you see in one concert?

"How about _you_ try to get your arse off for once and take a look at the crowd, John?"

"Lads . . ."

"_Me?!_ Who's the one eating on his bloody arse all day?"

". . . _lads_. . ."

"At least I'm not becoming a fat-ass like you!"

"For fuck's sake, LADS!"

I finally captured John and George's attention and we all went awkwardly silent. All the Pepperlanders were staring at us. The only thing left to hear was Martha and Marty panting. Right next to us, aside from Rocky, were four men wearing Anglican-style robes that looked very much like us. The one in blue, who looked to be me, raised an eyebrow.

He spoke. "Well, looks like we'll get along well. You're very much like us!" The Pepperlanders started laughing while John and George just stood there, silently cursing at themselves.

"We would very much like to hear you perform a song, just to get to know you more," The one in pink said. He was obviously Ringo's double. "All we've had here were the old northern songs and psychedelic rock. So why don't you show what you're made of?"

The Pepperlanders cheered. "Let's give it up for the Beatles!"

I spoke up. "Well, heh, we'd love to, but, we haven't got our instruments!"

"Not to worry. Tell us what you need and we can bring it right here." Seargent-John said.

"Um, alright." I told him the instruments we needed, and it came in a snap of his fingers. Literally. He gave a wave of his hand and they just appeared out of nowhere."

"Amazing! How did you do that?" Ringo asked.

"Nothing's impossible if you're a Beatle, or in our case, a Lonely Heart!"

We picked up our instruments and John spoke to the crowd as Lauren, Rocky and the Lonely Hearts went down stage.. "Um, hello there. We'd like to perform one of our very first songs, just to give you a background of us. This one's called, "Please Please Me." Ready? One two thr- oh, and just forget about me and George's argument a while ago, kinda embarrassing really. Okay, one two three four!"

….

"Hey guys! Nice job!" Lauren ran up to us just as went down stage. We all hi-fived her.

"Fellas, it's time to properly introduce to you the Beatlings," Rocky brought us to some people. "These guys, as you already know, are Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. This is their leader, Billy Shears – "The one who looked like Ringo with a mustache smiled and waved.

"Wait, _I'm_ the leader?!" Ringo exclaimed.

"_Ringo's_ our leader?!" Us other three followed.

Billy looked confused. "Why so surprised?"

"It's just that . . . oh, I don't know. He's the last to join the group . . ."

"kind of the odd-man-out . . ."

"he's too short . . ."

"he's the drummer . . . oh, you know none of us meant any harm, right Ringo?" Me, John and George all fake grinned.

Ringo just rolled his eyes. "Of course."

Next up here are Dwarf McDougal," The one in green who was John looked nearly the same, but had scruffy hair where a moptop should have been. He looked as silly and mischievous as John anyway. "Spike Wilbury," The red-robed George double tipped his hat, "and Percy 'Thrills' Thrillington." My double simply smirked.

"Now that you know yourselves, let me show you the others. Here's Magill, the girl who gave you the letter, Lucy, who lives up there in the sky, and Jude, a young boy who likes to hang around, Rita, our local meter maid, Sadie, who's practically a goddess of beauty around here, and Desmond and Molly who run the orphanage. Jojo and Loretta were runaways from the US who found themselves here. And there's – "

Rocky introduced us to a couple more people, and after that he left us and the five of us ran around, playing hide and seek and other games. We had a jog with the dogs as well. To kill the rest of our time we visited Strawberry Fields, the ocean where the giant octopus tended his garden and stargazed, or should I rather say _diamond-gazed_.

"Boy, sure is getting dark. Can we have a rest?" I was really getting drowsy and so were the others. "What are we doing tomorrow anyway?"

"We're holding a meeting discussing your first mission. Most of the Beatlings will be there, and so will you have to as well."

We went back to the submarine to sleep for the night. Actually, we had a pretty awesome pillow fight first, _and then_ went to sleep. There were two double-deckers. John slept on top of me and George on top of Ringo. It was only when we were getting tucked in when we realized that there were only four beds, since Lauren was never meant to stay here."

"Oh, no space for me. That's alright, I can sleep on the couch." She was about to lie down when I called her.

"Um, you could cram with me if you like." I felt bad for her and I didn't want her to feel cold and alone, so I was offering to comfort her.

She giggled. "That's really nice of you Paul." Lauren jumped right in next to me.

"Aaah, it's so comfortable." She rested on my arm. "You're so chubby! I can even feel your fat next to me," I could hear the others trying as hard as they could not to laugh. She patted my hair. "Your hair really is smooth like they say! You gotta tell me sis, what conditioner do you use?" John and George almost fell off their beds. Everybody was laughing so hard that tears were coming out of their eyes.

John tried to speak. "See, Paulie? Everybody thinks you're a woman, even Lauren!"

"Oh, shut up Johnny," I turned red, but I was laughing as well.

"Come, on now, it's time to sleep." Ringo said as he finally turned off the lights. Everyone doze off, leaving me and Lauren.

"Alright, you can just sleep in my arm –"Lauren pulled me in to a hug and fell asleep immediately with a smile on her face.

I smiled at her and thought back on our day.

Today, we had gone to the future, met a 12 year old Beatlemaniac, had ridden a submarine, gone to a place that doesn't exist and met people that don't exist. It really wasn't what I was expecting.

But that was only one day, our first day to be exact. And if that was what one day could bring, I had no idea what to expect from the next.

.


	7. Not a 100 Percent Fan

**I HAVE RETURNED WITH THE NEXT CHAPTER! Sorry for the looooooooong wait. Nothing much to see in this chapter, though, except for the somewhat important middle part. **

**And well, if you haven't gotten it yet, Lauren is based on myself. And yes, I am a Filipino, so I just wanted to write thoughts and feelings about the Manila incident** **and add it to this story.**

**And for the enth time, if you want a character or have any ideas you want me to put, PM me before my guitar starts weeping again.**

Chapter 7: Not a 100% Fan

RINGO'S POV

"GOOD MORNING, GOOD MORNING, GOOD MORNING, YEAH!"

"JOHN, SHUT UP!" Paul, George, Lauren and I all said in unison.

"We are trying to _sleep_!" George said.

"Well, whatever. But if you get in trouble with Rocky for not attending today's meeting, don't blame me." I could see he was already fully dressed with a smirk on his face. He turned to leave the submarine."

"W-wait! I fell out my bed and hurried to get dressed, and so did everyone else." We all went to different rooms to change, and when we were all done, John was gone.

"Dammit Lennon!" Paul said. "Let's go!" We ran to the meeting place, at the stage where we were yesterday.

Rocky turned around to face us just as we came. "Well, it's about time. We've been waiting ages for you! You should really look at John here, bein' a good example, coming here on time and all," John smiled slyly at us as we gave him death glares. _He's the laziest of the group and you're telling us he's a good example!?_ I thought.

"Forget about that," I said. "So, what do you have for us?"

"Alright everyone, huddle up over here," We all went to Rocky.

"Let's get started. Our main goal is to prevent a very big mistake that led to an entire country hating you."

We all shuddered at the thought, but none of our faces compared to Lauren's. She looked horrified, as if she knew exactly what it was all about. I saw her make fists with her hands.

"Ey, Lauren, everything alright?"

She became startled at the sound or my voice. "Oh, um, yeah. Everything's fine, Ringo." She kept a serious face.

I still gave her a look of concern as Rocky went on.

"As of now I won't mention that countries name. It had really affected both you and its people. That was the only time you had ever played there, and you never went back ever since."

Now _that _I wouldn't even think of happening at all. Usually we were greeted to happy fans from all sorts of places. But something happening that made us never return there? Something must have really happened.

"Er, Rocky? Can I talk to you for a while? _Privately_?" She said that last word through gritted teeth. Lauren took Rocky away from us and started whispering to him.

While that was going on, the four of us had a chat.

"Did we really do something _that _bad?" Paul questioned.

"Well, we don't know anything about it other than that it didn't end up too good." John replied.

"Whatever it is, Lauren obviously switched into a bad mood right after she heard it." I said.

"She did?"

"Yeah, she did George. She told me she was fine, but I could tell she wasn't at all. It's not like her to act like that. She's usually fun and friendly, but now lookin' at that, she must know something about it." I looked at Lauren and Rocky.

"We're better off _not_ asking her. Before you know it you'll completely piss her off and who knows what'll happen." John said.

John was right. We were better off not talking to her until she cooled down. So we sat down on the grass and waited for the other conversation to finish.

…...

LAUREN'S POV

I made sure the Beatles weren't listening when I started talking with Rocky.

"Rocky, the country you're talking about is the Philippines, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, it is. What are you so worried about?"

I took a deep sigh. "I like the Beatles a lot, Rocky, and you can see that. But that single event makes me want to punch them whenever I think of it." I sat down. "I know it wasn't entirely their wrongdoing, but the things they commented after the visit, that was just offensive, and, who wouldn't hate them after that." I looked at Rocky.

"Well, I know that, but I don't know why _you're_ so sensitive about it-"

I jumped back up. "_Kasi Pilipino ako! _I'm a Filipino! Don't you see it in my looks?"

Rocky just stood silently for a while. ". . . well . . .I never thought of that . . . I'm sorry if I offended you."

I sighed. "It's okay, Rocky. It's not your fault. I just tend to have fits sometimes."

We paused for a while, then I spoke up again.

"Hey Rocky, I could help the boys in the mission. We could maybe even try to prevent them from hating my country in the first place."

I couldn't hold it in anymore. I just had to tell it to someone.

"The reason I moved to New York was so I could see Paul and Ringo in a concert, because I knew they would never return to the Philippines. And I did, you know, I saw both of them, but what hurts me is that I know they won't even bother to go back at all. They had fans there, fans waiting for a day that would never come."

Rocky gave a look of sympathy for me and was about to speak when I cut him off.

"Just put me in the mission and let's get over with it."

….

RINGO'S POV

Eventually Lauren and Rocky ended their conversation and returned to us.

"Okay, Lauren will be with you on this mission." Rocky gave her a watch like ours and told her to put it on.

"These watches are what we'll use to keep in touch. Every Beatling who works for the HQ has one. We can use these to send messages or call each other, even if we're years apart. They'll start to vibrate and flash red when the "other" Beatles or any other person that cannot see you is near. Remember, _you cannot be seen by yourself. _That will ruin everything and we'll have to take the time and effort to remove their memories of it."

"What about Dan's gang? Won't they try to find us? How did they come to be anyway?" John mouth was full of questions.

"They used to be members of Beatle HQ, but they started developing evil and twisted thoughts, and so they were banished. They're now surviving on what they can, jumping to different times and trying to attack. Since they're Beatlings, they're immortal and will just respawn if you try to kill them. So, let's just hope they don't find you there."

"You give long answers."

"You asked a lot of questions."

"Meh, whatever."

Rocky continued. "Lauren knows exactly what to do in this mission. So I'll let her explain It to you as soon as you get there. Now, everyone, get in the submarine. I need to bring you to the location before you time-travel.

Before we left, we bid the Pepperlanders goodbye and left Pepperland. When we returned to the submarine, it was now filled with Beatlings, working on all sorts of stuff.

Our ride was almost the same as the last one, except people were running here, there and everywhere to get things done. While waiting to arrive at our destination, the five of us chilled, played, slept, told jokes, and anything else we could do to keep us from boredom.

George was just coming back from the fridge – no, George was coming back _with_ the fridge, when Rocky's voice boomed through the submarine.

"Attention, ladies, gentlemen, octopus . . . we have arrived at our destination. John, Paul, George, Ringo and Lauren, come to the entrance."

We did as we were told, and I could feel wind blowing my hair.

"Er, Rocky, there's a giant freaking black hole in front of us." Paul said.

"Yeah, doesn't it look familiar? This was the same kind of portal you used to come here."

We remembered the horrible feeling we got after that, and all of us except for Lauren groaned remembering it.

"Okay guys, you're going back to July 3, 1966. I'm telling you, it won't be easy. I don't know how you can handle it, but . . . good luck."

Lauren had been praying while Rocky was speaking. "Please keep us safe."

"So, fellas," I asked. "Are you ready?"

"No!" They all said.

"Yeah, well, we gotta go anyway."

"I hope we don't screw this up." George said.

"Well hell as better not." Paul replied.

"C'mon we can't wait any longer. Let's go-woah!" John jumped into the hole and he disappeared into it. Paul and George followed and the same thing happened.

I gulped and held Lauren's hand.

"On three," She said.

"Alright."

"One, two-"She cut off and pulled me into the hole.

"Hey! No fair!" I yelled.

"That's the fun of it!"

Her voiced echoed through the darkness as we fell for what seemed like the years going backwards.


	8. The Streetles

**This is probably the corniest chapter title ever, but we're after its contents, right?**

**Cameo? Ideas? Requests? PM me or else a Blue Meanie will be in your bedroom tonight (just kidding).**

Chapter 8: The Streetles

JOHN'S POV

I was the first one out of the time hole, dizzy and exhausted. I remained lying down in some kind of sewer hallway when Paul, George, Ringo and Lauren all fell on me, one by one.

"Cut it out!" I yelled as each of them hit me. "My feet were already in this bloody mess and you just had to put my whole body in!"

I was completely covered in – actually, I didn't even want to know what the _bloody hell _it was anyway. The others looked at me and gagged.

"C'mon guys," Lauren rushed to an opening. "Let's climb out of this manhole. Around this time you'd just be arriving at the airport, so the streets are most likely empty."

We climbed out and fortunately, the streets _were_ empty. Not a single person was in sight. I could hear a faint rumble going on not too far away.

"D'you hear that, fellas?" I said.

"Those are the shouts of the people pushing and hitting you around, and you're being kidnapped in a boat right about . . . now." Lauren said as we heard a boat motor speed away. She just stood there, staring at nothing while the rest of us looked at her, dumbfounded.

"Okaaay . . ." Paul awkwardly started. "So, where do we go now?"

Just then, Lauren's watch beeped. We all went to her to see what it was: a message from Rocky.

It opened and his Western accent echoed through the empty streets.

"Hey guys, by now you should have gone through the timehole. In three hours' time, a scheduled lunch will be held at the presidential palace, with, obviously, the first family, -"

Right after that was mentioned Lauren muttered something offensive sounding under her breath.

"- and around 300 other kids waiting to see the Beatles. You _need_ to attend that lunch. They won't take no for an answer, but unfortunately, Eppy doesn't know that, so impersonate yourselves and just be there. Three hours. Here's some money." Suddenly, coins and bills flew out of a thin slot in the watch.

"Really, _how many add-ons does this thing have_?!" Lauren shrieked.

"How far is it?" George ignored the last statement.

"At a walking distance? How are we gonna get there on foot in three hours?" Ringo wondered.

"Guys? I think I have an idea . . ."

With the look on Lauren's face, this had better been a good idea.

….

"Woo-hoo!" I yelled as I let the wind blow through my hair.

So, you're probably itching to know what we did exactly. Well, we managed to snatch some ordinary looking clothes (as easy as it was in the Dakota), and smeared dirt on our faces to look like "any other person from this area", as Lauren put it. We ruffled up our hairstyles, temporarily saying goodbye to our beloved moptops. To you it may seem like a pretty shitty idea, but trust us, it wasn't.

When the people started going back to their everyday activities and our other selves were probably in a hotel, Lauren got us a ride on a – um, a – well, whatever the hell you called it, it was like a recycled carriage with a motorcycle attached to it – and paid for it with the money HQ sent us.

Anyway, we _loved _it. We just felt so alive and – there was a feeling we didn't have in a long, long, long time. It was just like back when we weren't the Beatles – just ordinary people – being able to do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted it, without any worries.

This is probably a lame pun, but . . . we were the Streetles! Funny, right? No? Fine.

We didn't just ride one, though. We took a string of 'em along the way. After every one we would slack around the place for a bit, to get a taste of everything. Lauren made us try this food, I couldn't remember its name, which was an egg with a _fucking dead bird in it. _When she first opened it Ringo "excused himself", but we all knew what he was doing. After around five minutes of motivation, she finally got me to try just a _bite._ It actually turned out to be good, though, and we asked for more.

After our little snack we realized we had a mission on hand.

"Guys, what time is it?" Paul stood up.

"It's . . . oh snap! Ten minutes to the meeting!" We all rushed up to one last ride and made it just in time to get cleaned and change into uniform.

"Alright guys," Lauren said as she brushed a speck of dirt off George. "Please, _please, _don't goof around. To be honest, I don't fancy them myself. Just be polite and . . . act naturally." We smirked at the little song reference. "There's a camera setting and tiny mic on your watch. There's a tiny earpiece behind all of our ears, just in case we need to keep touch. Keep the cameras on so I can see what's going on.

The palace was only a block away. Even with my horrible eyesight, I could see the well-prepared aura it gave off.

"So," George said. "Don't screw up."

Paul bit back some sarcasm. "*cough*Lennon*cough*"

"Ah, save it, you," I retorted.

"So, _Winnie_, you ready?"

Oh. Nice pet name.

Í sighed. "Yeah, whatever."

"_Jamie?"_

Paul blushed and nodded.

"Hari-Hari? Oh, and that's a public nickname, mind you."

"Mm hmm . . .right . . ."

"Aaand, lordy-lordy pica benicoff?"

"_What?" _Ringo asked.

Lauren giggled. "Nevermind. Go now, everybody's waiting for you."

We slowly walked to the gate and the guard greeted us. Lauren, still disguised as a street kid, just hung out near the walls, but still kept in touch with the camera and mic.

The guard asked some suspicious questions, like us just simply walking out of nowhere without any transportation of some sort, but after some assertiveness they let us in.

I just had to honestly say, it was beautifully decorated. Everybody was present and looking up at us, the kids all with hopeful faces and toothless smiles. There were four empty seats – for us, obviously – right next to the first family.

We greeted them with respect, and took our seats as normally as we could (formal settings just annoy me).

There was a speech from the president and the first lady, but being me, I wasn't paying attention that much.

Hey, sit tall. Don't slouch, they'll think you're being disrespectful. Lauren's voice popped in my ear. I reluctantly complied.

I was guessing all our mics and earpieces were somewhat connected, because I could hear her talking to the others as well.

George, your fork is not a backscratcher. Put it down.

Paul, you look pretty enough. Stop using the glass as a mirror to fix yourself.

Ringo, I saw that nosepick.

It was just getting more and more ridiculous, and we tried as hard as we bloody could to suppress our laughter.

As the speech ended and we started to eat, the first lady decided to have a chat with me, the leader.

"So, Mr. Lennon," You could still faintly hear her accent mixed with an American one. "Will you be releasing any albums in the next few months?"

Oh no. The other three were worriedly looking at me, and for the first in my life, faced a question I couldn't answer.

I tried to improvise. "Well, err, yes, Madam. It's called . . ." I was hoping Lauren would give me a hand here, but it seemed she didn't memorize the worldwide chronology. Revolver, she perked up. Just say Revolver.

I was still blanked out, so Paul finished my quip. "Revolver! Yes, that's the title." The first lady smiled and nodded at him then gave me a suspicious glare.

_Damn, that was close._

"Are you enjoying your stay here so far?"

"Yes, it's been a blast!" George happily replied, and it wasn't a lie. We _were _having a blast, well I don't know for the _other _Beatles.

You guys were just harassed at the airport! Lauren hastily reminded us.

"Oh, well, maybe not on our arrival, to be honest, but as soon as we got to the hotel we enjoyed whatever was given to us." Ringo filled in with Lauren's reminder.

Many questions were asked, and we were able to answer them even without Lauren's help, which made it more believable since we didn't pause for five seconds before answering.

Eventually, we became accustomed to the party, having good chats with everyone and greeting all the children. We had gotten so absorbed in doing it that we were unaware that the watches that were trying to keep us safe were now vibrating and flashing red.


	9. Impostors? Or not

**Hey guys . . . so, the first part of this chapter is kinda . . . violent, so be prepared. Don't worry, though. There's still fun in this chapter. So enjoy . . . I think.**

Chapter 9: Impostors? Or not . . .

GEORGE'S POV

I was the first to notice the warning.

I had just been smiling and laughing at the company of the group when I felt it. That's when I stopped to check my watch under the table.

Just as I had thought, it was beeping red.

Now, II became serious. I started to warn the others discreetly, first tapping Ringo's shoulder.

"Ey, Ringo," I whispered to him. "Check yer' watch."

He glanced at his own, and I could see him flush in fear. "Should we get out of here?"

"I don't know!"

"'Ey, John, Paul," he called out to them.

"Yeah?" they replied, and we pointed to our wrists.

They gasped in fear. "Oh –"

Suddenly, a man, most likely a guard, rushed up to the first lady and whispered something in her ear. By the frustrated look on the guard's face, I could tell we were screwed.

"Um, we need to attend to something at the moment-" John tried to stand up, but was pushed down by two guards he didn't notice were behind him.

"He told me that the Beatles were still in their suite, and there was no notification of them arriving here." She blankly said. Everyone, including the children, turned to face us.

"W-why would that be? There must be a mistake. . . . "Paul made a fake laugh.

"Impostors!" A young child yelled from his seat. "They're not the real Beatles!"

"Run!" I pulled the others and we ran for the door.

I had just noticed that this was all on live television, with all the cameras and wires stationed at the side. With my quick feet, I pulled the others fast enough that the camera wouldn't capture us.

"They've let me down!" The first-lady angrily yelled. I could hear the children crying behind us, and it brought guilt to my heart.

But it was too late.

_We messed up,_ I thought. _We were right. We weren't gonna make it._

Nimbly dodging the clutches of policemen here and there, we returned to the place where Lauren was supposed to be.

"Lauren?" I called out. "Lauren, where are you?" I could feel tears beginning to form in my eyes. Where was she?

"Guys, help!" I finally heard our young friend's response and turned around. My little joy turned back into crushed hope when I saw someone holding her. No, not a policeman.

"Dan," Paul sneered.

Without saying a word, Dan ran around the corner and disappeared.

"No!" I tried to run to her, but some policemen had caught me and were dragging me away.

"Paul, Ringo, John!" However, my cries were useless. Paul had been captured as well. I had searched and searched for Ringo amidst all the chaos, but the friendly, blue-eyed man, my best friend, was gone.

John was in shock, keeping his feet glued on the ground.

"John, don't just stand there you bloody twat! Do something!" I shouted with all my lung-power to him.

John turned to me, and I could see the look on his face, and then I knew he felt worried helpless, and _scared._ John Lennon was never scared, not even in the tightest of situations, but now he was.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then a sudden, loud sound echoed through the landscape and me and Paul covered our ears and shut our eyes until it was all over.

Then when I heard Paul screaming, I couldn't bear to look at what had just happened.

John was down on his knees, clutching his shoulder in pain. He was coughing up blood and I realized he had been shot.

The guards were in shock too, surprisingly, as if they never meant to do it.

I tried to wrestle my way away from them, kicking and punching like a little child, but their grip was firm on me.

Now, I was furious. I swiftly turned around and punched one of them.

"What did you do to him?! He's dying!" I kicked him with all my might, ignoring his pleas and apologies. Then suddenly, I felt something hit me on the back of my head, and I fell to the ground.

The last thing I saw before I went unconscious was a bloodied silver hammer.

….

" . . . George?"

I stirred a little to the sound of my name.

"George, wake up."

I slowly opened my eyes and saw I was on a bed. I touched the back of my head and felt a bandage there.

Paul was sitting up on the bed next to me, but he looked fine, except for the fact that he witnessed his best mate get shot.

John. Where was John?

"Paul, where did they take John?"

Paul eyes started to well up a bit, and I could see he had been crying before.

"To a hospital, they said. The police said it was an accidental shot and nobody knew who did it. They said . . . they couldn't guarantee he would make it." Paul started to sob silently, pressing his blanket to his face.

I just sat watching him with a devastated look on my face. We could lose John, lr maybe we've already lost him a while ago . . .

"Paul, don't think like that," I asserted the both of us. "John's a strong lad, I'm sure he'll make it. Besides, if we're in 1966 right now I'm sure in the end it will all turn out fine."

"Alright, but where's Ringo?" Paul was trying to churn out all the motivation he could from me.

"I'm sorry, Paul, but I don't know about him. I think he somehow escaped during the riot." I hopped off my bed and jumped to his. "But he'll be fine. I just know it."

"They confiscated our watches by the way, so we can't contact anyone."

"Well, that blows. Where are we anyway?" I looked around the room again. It looked like any other bedroom I've seen, without any decoration of some sort.

"I couldn't remember the name, but I think we're in a hotel," Paul replied.

"Wait a minute . . . that means-"

The door burst open and a familiar face walked in. When he saw us he was taken aback a little.

Paul's jaw dropped, and so did mine.

"Err . . . Paul?" I asked the other man.

"Yeah, the _real_ Paul. Not an impostor," He glared at Paul.

"Who are you people and why are you posing as us?" McCartney (I'll just refer to all the 1966 blokes by their last names) said.

The question came down on me so rapidly that I barely had time to formulate an answer. And when I did, why the hell should he believe it?

But I guessed it was best to tell the truth.

"Alright, this may sound crazy, but . . . we _are_ the Beatles, from 1965, and we came here to fix a mess we were to make but, as you can see . . . we didn't."

I looked up at him, waiting for a response.

"Yeah . . . sure . . ."

Then somebody else entered the room.

"Hey Paul – oh, they really do look like us," Lennon told McCartney.

"What do you mean look like? We _are _you," Paul responded.

"'Ey, cut the crap, you. Our public image is ruined because of you and your other two friends." Lennon snapped back.

I noticed how big of an impact 1966 had on the Beatles. John was a fun-loving, witty guy, but the one standing in front of me looked sour and irritated. The same went for Paul.

Perhaps too much of being on the top took its toll on us?

I had to prove that we were really George Harrison and Paul McCartney. Come on, George, think, think . . .

"Hey, Paul?"

McCartney looked at me. "What?"

I smirked. "Remember that time when we went hiking together, and then you cut your finger with a thorn and you didn't stop bitching about it for the next six hours . . ."

"H-how d'you know that . . ." McCartney looked dumbfounded while Paul did a facepalm.

" . . . and then you started complaining that you were too tired to move on and insist we rest because you were too damn lazy to drag around your fat-arse . . ."

Lennon raised his eyebrows at McCartney while Paul completely buried himself under the covers.

"Okay, I get it George . . ." McCartney turned red in embarrassment.

". . . and then when we were sharing the tent, you forced me to sing a lullaby to you . . . it was one of those nursery rhymes, wasn't it?"

"Shut up!" Paul emerged from the bed sheets and started choking me.

"Alright! Alright, we believe you! You really are Paul and George from 1965," McCartney raised his arms in surrender.

"And now John knows about the hiking! I hate you, George."

I simply chuckled. "I know, McSassy."

"So you're not impostors. Anything you need, we'll get it for you! Or try to, at least . . ." Lennon said.

"Well, we were wearing these wristwatches, you see . . ."


	10. Sprinkles, Not Powder

**Hey guys. Sorry, but I think this may be a boring chapter for you, since it's mostly dialogue. But you WILL get some key info in this chapter. **

**Oh, some self-promotion over here. I'm part of a group called the Paperback Writers (check out on Celestearts profile) so far we've been working on three stories: Not a Second Time, A Day in the Life and Come and Get it. So, if you'd like, go check them out, as well as my fellow writers.**

Chapter 10: Sprinkles, not Powder

LAUREN'S POV

" . . . Ey, get up, you."

Somebody shook me and I opened my eyes slowly. I felt terribly groggy, and I was slumped on a wall. I was in a Volkswagen Beetle, probably the one with the plate number 28IF, and Dan was in front of me.

"What is it?' I mumbled.

Dan sneered. "Will, you just follow me?!"

Having no other choice, I obeyed him. Where had he taken me anyway? I really hoped that John, Paul, George and Ringo were okay . . .

My watch had been taken from me, apparently, since all that was left on my wrist was the marking that indicated that it was once there.

I almost had a heart attack when I stepped out of the car, because I landed on . . . nothing. There was no ground, no sky, just . . . nothing but an endless white area.

I had already guessed where we were before Dan spoke.

"This is Nowhere Land, isn't it?"

Dan chuckled. "You're a smart one. Now tell me, kid, what do you see here, in this place?"

Was he joking? There was nothing in here! Well, Jeremy Boob once lived here, but he had moved to Pepperland, as it was in the movie.

I still replied to him. "Well, I see nothing except for us . . ."

"Ah, yes, you may see nothing, but there is much more than just nothing in this place," He grabbed my arm. "Follow me. You'll soon see just how much the Beatles were capable of . . ."

What did he mean "how much they were capable of"? I knew that they were one of the most influential bands of all time, but I could not understand what Dan said.

I dared to ask a question. "Err, Dan? What do you mean by that?"

He stopped walking, and looked at me with a distraught face.

"They had so much more to show the world, kid. They never got the chance to."

….

PAUL'S POV

We were all sitting on the sofa of the hotel room, staring at each other. Me on George on one side, and the future Beatles and Eppy on the other side.

We were given our watches back, in good condition, and George was having a conference with Rocky. A private one, since he had the mic with him.

"No Rocky . . . we don't know where Ringo and Lauren are," He sighed. "The little teeny was taken by Dan, as we saw it. And John? In the hospital. Somebody, probably that Bungalow man, shot him. I think Edison attacked me as well." Then he glared at me. "If only _Paul_ didn't have to create some of them . . ."

"What?" I shot back at him. "Without me, there wouldn't be Rocky either! There wouldn't even be Sgt. Pepper's."

"I call you back when we get more news." George removed his mic and earplug and looked at the people at the other side of the room. "Crazy, isn't it?"

"Yes, absolutely mad . . ." Epstein replied. "Boys, do you actually _believe_ these two impostors, that they're actually Paul and George?"

"I dunno with George and Ringo, but John and I do!" Thanks to George, McCartney and Lennon believe us, all because of that bloody hiking story.

"C'mon! We'll prove it to you, Eppy! It's us, we swear!" I tried, even calling him "Eppy" to ring a bell.

"Ask us anything," I added.

"Alright," Harrison started, as if interrogating us. "If you really are me, then you can answer this: Why am I called the Quiet Beatle?"

Without skipping a beat, George replied to a question about his own self. "That was mislabeling. I had a fever during that first US press conference, and Eppy recommended I keep quiet. He said nobody should know. Media then took me for how I behaved, and then-"George snapped his fingers. "The Quiet Beatle I was."

They all stared at George, eyes wide and mouths wide open. All except Lennon and McCartney, since they already knew.

"Told ya!" Lennon softly elbowed Harrison and stuck is tongue out at Starr while he rolled his eyes.

"I got all five of them to believe us, so you owe me big time." George told me.

"Now it's my turn to talk," I looked at them. "After your concerts, go and get out of here. Don't mention anything about us."

"Oh, and these," George had some tiny little pills in his palm. "It's best if you take these now. They're Memory Altering Pills from Doctor Robert. Well . . . you get the idea from the name."

"Where did you get those?" I asked him. He didn't have them a while ago.

"The watch chute," He replied. "Y'know, like the money."

"Oh."

George handed the five a pill each and they took it immediately.

"Hey, does this mean John won't know about the hiking story anymore?" I asked George hopefully.

"Who cares? Now, we better leave before all their memory's gone. Come with me to the roof."

"Why?"

"Will you just come with me?!"

"Alright, Mean Mister Mustard . . ." George rolled his eyes at me as I chuckled.

When we got to the roof, George now pulled out some powder.

"We came here to do drugs?"

"No, you idiot. Spray this over the city."

We both sprayed it over the edge until the pack was empty.

"Let me guess," I started. "Memory Altering Powder?"

"Sprinkles, actually. That's its name."

"Same banana." I replied as my watch started beeping.

Pressing the answer button, we rejoiced at the sound of Ringo's voice.

"Um, 'ello lads?'

"Ringo? Yeah, George and I are fine, but John-"

"Don't worry about John. Rocky'll pick him up from there. I made my way back to Pepperland. Jeremy Boob's and some others are conducting a search party for Lauren. Gosh, I hope she's fine . . ."

We took a moment of silence to think about Lauren. Why did it have to be her? She did nothing wrong. It was just everyone's luck, I guess . . .

"Sorry to break the silence, but out of curiosity, exactly _how_ will Rocky pick John up without being seen?"

"He says normal humans can't see Beatlings."

"But – " Normal humans couldn't see Beatlings? Then . . . that meant . . .

"- What about the ambush in New York, at the music shop?"

"He said the people would just perceive that as an everyday incident."

"Well, what about _Lauren_? How would he explain that? She had been with us ever since we met her."

"There's something about her. Everyone in Pepperland is saying that. Just as I got back, I was hearing murmuring about her, even suspicion."

"Well, okay, Ringo. We'll get back there as soon as we end this call. So . . . see you there." George gave one final message and I turned off the line.

I let George use his watch to open a portal for us back to Pepperland. As we jumped in, I thought about Lauren's ability to see Beatlings. Perhaps Rocky was just joking? But I wouldn't think Rocky would joke on such a matter . . .

I had come to a conclusion:

It was no mistake that we met Lauren. It was meant to happen after all.

Then again, I may be wrong, but . . . why not?


	11. Seltaeb

Chapter 11: Seltaeb

RINGO'S POV

John had been injured very badly. When I had gone to the portal terminal in the yellow submarine to pick him up, he looked worse than I thought. He walked with a limp, had hard time breathing and had to clutch his chest.

As soon as he got out he looked at me. "Ringo?" he wheezed.

I felt like letting some tears escape from my eyes when he spoke. John was a strong man and wouldn't let anything get in his way, but looking at him right now, so weak and innocent, another side of him showed.

"Yeah, it's me John. You're gonna be alright," I replied. I put his arm around my shoulder and brought him to the sofa.

"We're back in Pepperland, by the way," I said, trying to start a conversation. "Paul and George just arrived in the other room. A search party is about to leave to look for Lauren."

"Where?"

"They're gonna look in Nowhere Land."

All he could do right now was come up with as much as one word every five seconds. I knew his inhaling pained him with each breath.

"John?" called a familiar voice. We both turned around, me quickly and John steadily, to find Paul and George peeping from the door. Paul had been the one to call out.

When he saw John he beamed with delight. "John!" He ran to him and hugged him tightly, a few tears falling on his cheeks.

"'Ello lad, it's glad yer safe!" George said.

However John was not enjoying Paul's display of affection for him. "Paul . . . let . . . go . . . please . . ."

Realizing he was causing John pain instead of warmth, Paul jerked himself off.

"Sorry," Paul looked down at his feet.

"S'okay, Paulie," John tried to smile, but cringed a little.

"What do we do now?" George brought up the next subject.

"I dunno," I shrugged. "You want me to go ask Jeremy if we can join the search party? I mean, it's the least we can do."

"After that failed mission? I bet they'll even try to marginalize us," Paul sneered.

"We didn't fail."

We all looked at John, shocked at what he just said. He was talking faster and stronger now, determined to say what he wanted to say.

"What do you mean we didn't fail, John? 'Course we did! Did that bullet mess ya up or something?"

John gave Paul an "_are you fucking kidding me?_" face and Paul stopped countering.

"Sorry John, I'm just pissed, that's all."

"We changed . . . some stuff . . ." John breathed in and out slowly. "We showed up . . . and . . . they took her . . ."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, John, but, how is losing Lauren not a failure?" George politely but cautiously questioned.

"Just . . . wait . . ."

And with that, John limped into his room to rest.

We were all left puzzled at John's final statement. We clearly misunderstood the message, and whatever it was, we weren't gonna get it any sooner.

….

The search party was being deployed in one hour, which gave us enough time to converse with them. It consisted of Jeremy, Lucy, Jude, and the Fool.

Yeah, that's right. A talking clown-faced goat, a shady genius, a flying gymnast, and a carbon copy of Julian.

Hopefully, Paul, George, and I could join, and maybe even John, if he could recover in 60 minutes.

"'Ey, Jeremy! Can I talk to you for a sec?" I called over.

"Well, I hope I find this sublime, otherwise I'm wasting my time!" Jeremy said in his rhyming-lingo which annoyed the crap out of everybody.

"We were wondering if we could join the search party-"

"- sorry, that's a nope," little Jude replied. "Rocky said it's too risky to possibly lose the Beatles themselves in Nowhere Land."

"Ya don't know what's comin' for ya there . . ." The Fool absent-mindedly said, inspecting a flower he had picked up from the field.

"Oh, come on! You're a five-year-old tyke!" Paul shrieked, pointing at Jude.

"I'm _forty-four!_" Jude defended himself, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "We're all immortal, _remember_?"

Paul froze, coming to the realization that the little boy was nearly twice his age. "Yeah, I remember . . ."

"Well, if we can't come, is there anything we can do to help?"

"There sure is," Lucy flew down from the sky, some diamonds in her hands. "Two things, actually. You can help Nurse John back to health, and dig up some information about those three who took Are- I mean Lauren."

Jude looked at Lucy wide-eyed as if she had almost said something that would kill her.

Ignoring the tiny event that happened, George continued. "So, where can we find some info anyway?"

"In Seltaeb building, you'll find everything," Jeremy said.

"Sorry, where?"

"Seltaeb's that thingy over there," Fool swung around and pointed to a dome-like architecture which was separated from other buildings and stood out on its own.

"It's a place where all records of each and every single Beatling are kept, including our own. Only Rocky has the authority to look at them, but we've never been able to sneak in and take a peek."

"But maybe you can," Jude winked at us, and I knew what they were trying to get us to do.

I gasped. "You-you mean-"

"Yup. We want you to sneak in there and get those records. Rocky may be the only one to see them, but everyone knows only the Beatles themselves can understand each Beatling's character, no matter from what era.

"Um, okay . . ." Paul slowly came to thought.

"Well, maybe John could be of much help here. Remember when he got us a change of clothes?"

"And very _grotty_ ones, to be exact . . ." George rolled his eyes. ". . . What? Have I said something amiss?" he smirked at his own reference.

"Please, just try to do this. We would be really thankful." Lucy said.

"Don't worry, we will."

". . . um, Guys?" I curiously asked, thinking about what John had said earlier. "John said we didn't fail the mission, but it's kinda obvious we did. So, what's your verdict?"

The four looked at each other for a while and nodded their heads in agreement to something.

"All that mattered was that you _changed_ something," Jude's answer still somewhat did not satisfy our problem.

But we knew we weren't going to be able to fish anything else out of them, so we nodded our heads that we got the message. "We understand," We said in unison.

"Oh, look at the time of the day! At this point, we must be on our way!" Jeremy held his head and ran off.

"Well, see ya!" Fool followed him.

Lucy and Jude giggled at them before running off, or _flying_ in Lucy's case, to departure.

Paul, George and I walked back to the submarine, going to tell John what the group had asked us to do.

But in the back of my mind, and I knew the others were thinking it as well, there was something itching, a hole in the knowledge we had acquired.

If it was true that every person aside from us could see Beatlings, to them just being an illusion, then why could Lauren see them as well? Every single one in this place was trying - and desperately too – to hide something from us.

But whatever it was, we were all determined to find out, and there would be no more intimidation or lying.

No more.

I organized a plan in my mind.

Step one: Get those fucking records.


	12. Dead or Alive

**The updates are coming, the updates are coming! Do you want to know a secret, from me to you? To those who asked for characters in my new story, I'm starting to work on the first chapter! But none of you are in it yet . . . hehehe . . .**

**Please feel free to review this chapter! Quote a line! Throw your reactions!**

Chapter 12: Dead or Alive

JOHN'S POV

_I opened my eyes, and saw the sky. I found out I was laying down on the ground, and next to me was a house. _Strange, _I thought,_ where am I?_ I could faintly hear the sound of upbeat music from inside the house. _

Hey, they're playing Raunchy!

_I ran to the door and slowly opened it. They continued playing, so that must have meant they didn't mind me coming in. I turned a corner and froze in my tracks, shocked._

_There were three aged men, two on guitars and one on drums. Even with all the wrinkles and facial hair, I recognized them all too well . . ._

"Paul? George? Ringo?" _I shrieked. I was right in front of them, but they kept on playing as if I wasn't there._

"_Guys, it's me!" _ _I smiled, hoping they would pay attention to me, but they didn't._

_The smile faded from my lips. ". . . Lads?" I walked next to Paul and tapped his shoulder, but my hand went right through, like a ghost._

_Yelling, I jerked my hand away from him. What in the world was going on?_

_Then they stopped playing and conversed with each other. _

_George sighed. "I just wish . . . wish that he was here."_

"_Just imagine if it never happened?" Ringo heaved. _

_Paul looked away, too hurt to say anything._

_It didn't take too long until I realized that they were talking about me._

_George then stood up and looked out the window._

"_As far as I know, there won't be a Beatles reunion as long as John Lennon remains-"_

No!

I quickly opened my eyes, jotting them from left to right. I was back in my room in the submarine.

_It was just a dream . . ._ I thought.

But, it cut off before I could get George's last word. However, I was sure I already knew what it was.

I curled up and silently sobbed, the bullet wounds still aching my every breath.

_Dead,_ I thought. _As long as I remain dead, there will be no more bloody reunion. No more records, no more concerts, no more Beatles. That band is history._

It was just a dream.

No, it wasn't.

Yes it was! Stop playing with my mind!

I grabbed my aching head. I didn't know what was real or unreal anymore. I was going to die, and I was going to leave them. No, I wasn't! That was just an illusion . . .

I'm going crazy.

A gentle knock came at my door.

"Not . . . now . . . please . . ." I became frustrated that I couldn't speak at a normal pace.

"John, open the door, we need to tell you some stuff," Paul's muffled voice traveled through the door.

I sneered and pulled open the door and side-stepped just in time to dodge the three Beatles from falling on me. Apparently as how it had looked like at the moment, Paul had been leaning on the door as I opened it, causing them to fall one by one.

I said nothing, partly due to the fact that it caused me pain, and partly because there was nothing to say, as it was their fault. I just looked down at them, furrowing my eyebrows.

"Ack, this feels just like the sled scene in '_Help!'_ . . ." Paul groaned from the bottom of the pile.

Ringo, who was on top jumped up and the others followed when there was way for them. I raised an eyebrow at them, asking them what they wanted to tell me without speaking.

"Oh, right! Well, the search party asked us a favor before they left . . ."

"It's something kinda risky, but, everything we've done so far was risky anyway. They want us to, um 'borrow' some records from a building called Seltaeb," George explained. "Hey, did you realize Seltaeb is Beatles backwards?"

Paul rolled his eyes. "Of course we did, George. It's kinda obvious, if you think about it . . ."

"Remember how you smuggled out those clothes from the Dakota?"

_The Dakota,_ the name stuck in my mind. So what? It was just a place in New York . . . Why did I have a horrible feeling of that place? Did something happen there?

_Stop it, John! Pull yourself together. Your pals will think you're going insane . . ._

" . . . John?"

I snapped out of my delusive thoughts, only to find Paul, George and Ringo staring at me. Ringo had been waving his hand in front of my face.

I gulped awkwardly. "Sorry . . . what?"

"Are you in or out?" Paul asked, for what was probably more than twice already, due to my constant blackouts.

"Uh . . . yeah," I shakily replied.

"Great! This will take some planning, though," Paul snapped.

"A crapload of it too . . . Let me get something to eat, I'll be back," George said as he walked out of the room.

Ringo sighed. "I won't expect him to be back quickly, you know how much that boy can swallow!"

I nodded in agreement and sat on my bed. From the way they were looking at me, I had a feeling that they wanted to tell me something else.

Well, I had to too, but I didn't think it was the right time yet.

"Spit it out," I said, wanting to hear it anyway.

Ringo looked at Paul. "Um, there's this something about Lauren, but neither of us understands it. Not even Rocky, according to what he's told us."

I raised an eyebrow at them. Now they had my full attention.

"He said," Paul continued from Ringo's sentence. "-That normal humans, who happen to be everyone except us, can see Beatlings. Then how come . . .?"

Paul spread his arms, indicating his obvious question.

I thought for a while. Rocky could be joking for all we knew. But joking about a simple fact was needless.

Maybe the records we were soon to steal would solve this case?

"Maybe it's in the records," I replied, hoping my conclusion would help.

"Yeah, you're probably right . . ." Ringo sighed and then perked up. "Hey, how long has George been gone?"

"Quite a while now . . . you said he would take long, anyway," Paul shrugged it off.

He instantly took that statement back as soon as we heard a loud crash from the outside.


	13. George the Gorge

**This took me a couple days to finish, because I'm also working on an upcoming humor-packed one-shot! And if your favorite Beatle is George, you might squee at this chapter. *squees***

Chapter 13: George the Gorge

GEORGE'S POV

"Food, glorious food, hot sausage and mustard . . ." I mumbled to myself as I skipped through Pepperland. I told the other lads that I would just get something to eat, and I'd be back in no time.

I mean, how long would it take for me to eat?

But the problem with me was, the hungrier I got, the less control I had, so now I was resisting the urge as much as I could to break in a place and gobble up the whole damn thing.

"Okay, now where off to?" I looked around, and had no bloody idea where to go. I walked for a couple more minutes, and spotted a gigantic field.

"Hmm, maybe they grow fruits there!"

I scampered and peeked through a bush to have a closer look. And sure enough, there were strawberries everywhere. There were so many of them juicy, delicious, sweet . . .

_Stop it!_ I hit myself on the head, and then instantly regretted it when I remembered there was already a giant concussion on the back of my head from when I had gotten hit by the hammer. I gently pressed my fingers on it and winced, which reminded me of the dream I had had around an hour ago.

I didn't have a clue why, but I had dazed off a little while after Paul, Ringo and I had talked to the search party. It was a very-I didn't know how to call it-unusual dream.

In the dream there were four people playing together, three of whom I already knew. They were Lucy, Jude, the Fool, and a girl who looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn't pinpoint her to anyone.

Then the nameless girl went to sit down by herself looking at her feet, feeling somewhat sad. The other three noticed and went next to her.

"_Do you guys think I was a mistake?" The girl asked._

"_Why would we? We're your friends, and no matter what Rocky or everybody else says, we'll always be there for you." Jude tried to comfort her._

_The girl smiled a little. "Thanks."_

"_Let's play more, yeah?" Fool giggled._

"_Follow me, guys! I want to show you something." Lucy hovered in the air._

_The other three looked at each other and nodded. "It's all in the mind, y'know!" and then laughed._

I then woke up, wondering where I had gotten a dream such as that.

Anyway, right now I was about to leap in and get me some snackies.

"Alright, Geo," I told myself. "Right . . . now!"

I pounced out of my hiding bush and snatched handfuls and handfuls of the little red berries. Like an animal who hadn't eaten in ages I stuffed them into my mouth, the red juice smearing my mouth and staining my shirt.

_Okay, that's enough now George. Now go back to the other three,_ my mind told me.

But I wasn't listening. I continued to pluck more and more out of every single bush. I just couldn't stop . . .

_Mmm, delicious, _I licked my lips.

"Oi, you! Get outta here! This is private property!"

My heart nearly stopped and I turned around in my place. There were cops all over and they gasped when they saw me.

"Mr. Harrison, I never thought you would do this . . ." One of them shook his head. "But rules are rules. Get him!"

My instincts told me to run, run as far as I could. Thankfully all my experience from running from crazy hardcore fans every single day finally paid off.

Then I reminded myself that right now I was running from psychedelic-looking policemen under the sea and not tween schoolgirls in skirts. I didn't know which one to be more afraid of.

_Cop! Dodge right! Cop! Dodge left! Skid! Lunge!_

I felt like I was on Global television about a wanted convict just because I ate a few strawberries. Did they really take that kind of crap as if I had just murdered five people?

Then again, the juice probably made it look like there was blood all over me . . .

After around five minutes of being a criminal I had probably attracted the whole of Pepperland. People were peeping out of their houses wondering what all the ruckus was all about.

_I should have not eaten. I should have not eaten. I hate myself. God dammit, I'm hungry again._

My thighs were throbbing like hell and I decided I couldn't take the bullshit anymore. I collapsed in front of the submarine, making a loud crash when I did. I was then handcuffed behind my back. What the hell? These people really treat their strawberries like diamonds, don't they?

"George, _what the hell did you do?_" Paul scolded me like he was my mother.

Ringo and John just walked behind him, scratching their heads.

"Um, I . . ." How was I going to explain that I earned a six stars on being wanted for eating?

Yeah, seems legit.

Rocky then went to me, shaking his head. I remembered he was the Town Sheriff . . .

"What's he done?" The Raccoon questioned.

"He was trekking over the Strawberry Fields. Everyone knows that is strictly prohibited."

_Well, then you should have put up a fucking sign saying DO NOT ENTER, dipshits._

Rocky stroked his beard-err, fur- for a couple of seconds and then decided,

"Well, nobody, even the Beatles themselves, should be excused from this violation. Just keep him in confinement for a couple of days, and then he can leave.

"Can we visit him?" Ringo raised his hand. John scoffed, probably at the fact that I had so stupidly gotten myself arrested.

"Come on," The cops led me away, at least they weren't harsh.

However, my luck followed me when I saw where we were heading of to.

"This is your prison?" I asked, trying to hide the smirk on my face. The place they were taking me to just happened to be Seltaeb.

"More like a homestay. Don't worry, it may be heavily guarded but it's all welcome inside."

Instead of slowing our progress, I getting arrested seemed to be a great advantage.

And I've always wanted to play a spy so . . . wish granted.


	14. The Blue Ring

** *huff, huff* Woo, I finally have the next chapter for this story! Nobody reviewed on the last chapter, so I'm telling you this:**

**I really love feedback, so please please review no matter what your reactions are! Remember, they're what keep the story alive!**

Chapter 14: The Blue Ring

LAUREN'S POV

Time passed on and on, and it felt like we'd been walking for hours in the never-ending path of nothingness until I saw a blur of color in the distance.

"There it is, we're not far now. Keep moving," Dan urged me. I noticed that he was being less hostile to me, and was now speaking to me like anybody else, even like the way the John, Paul, George and Ringo would speak to me. Calm and satisfied.

His little gestures changed as well. Just a while ago he had pulled my arms, shoved me, and even dragged me. Now I was just walking by his side.

Dan had a worried expression on his face, and was trying his best to hide it, but I could still spot it. What could he be worried for? Me? No, it couldn't be for me…he was the bad guy, but I knew better and simply played along with him and did whatever he told me to.

Soon enough we were in _something_, which was a medium-sized garden. Around it were different houses, I spotted a bungalow and spoke up.

"So this is where you live, right?" I guessed.

"Well, yes, the three of us," Dan replied. "One house for us each."

"Then why are there four houses?" I was right, technically. After a cabin house, which was most likely Dan's, was a makeshift shack slightly smaller than the others. It was once splattered with an array of colored paint, and the splotches had all faded into near-grey.

Dan didn't answer and simply gestured for me to take a look for myself, so I obliged and slowly walked in.

There were things of all sorts inside, a small bed, and music records scattered all over the place, and some were cracked and shattered. The place looked like it had been raided, because there was dust and rubble all over.

I pulled out something that caught my eye from under a pile of debris. It was a little blue ring, and engraved on it were the words-

"One…After…2011." I squinted to read the tiny text. What was that supposed to mean?

I stared at the ring for quite a while longer then wore it on my finger.

As soon as I put it on a flash of light darted across my eyes. I flinched and stepped back. What just happened?

Then another one came, and many more, more frequent each time the flashes merged into an image in my mind, the field that was just outside, and could see a few people playing together, but it was so blurry they were unidentifiable.

Then it disappeared just as it had appeared, in several flashes, this time in the opposite acceleration, becoming slower instead of faster. My eyes readjusted to the dim light in the shack and I went outside. Dan probably knew that I would find the ring since he asked for it out of my hand.

I gave it to him and he tossed it in his fingers.

"This ring, does it bring you memories?" Dan asked me.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "No…" but then the longer I thought, the more confused I became. I had seen that very same ring before, but where and why?

My thoughts were cut off as I heard voices calling my name from the distance back into the main part of Nowhere Land.

….

PAUL'S POV

Later on that night after George had gotten arrested for "area violation", the three of us left tried to plan how we were going to get the records, and at the same time bail George out. John's condition had gotten a little worse and now he refused to talk even the slightest, which made it hard for us to communicate, although he was still good enough to do anything else with us.

And yes, I said we _tried_ to plan.

Now here we were, camping outside of the Seltaeb late at night, and Lucy's diamonds were reflecting bright in the sky. John was trying to draw the building for later study.

"These binoculars are acting funny," Ringo said as he looked into them. "Things are getting smaller instead of bigger!"

"That's because you got them the wrong way 'round, you twat."

He turned red in the face at my comeback and turned them around after his realization.

"Hmm, there are a couple of guards at the front," Ringo told John and I. "But they look nothing like Pepperlanders, not even human-like. They're…blue? And furry, too. They have bunny-like ears."

John raised an eyebrow at Ringo's strange description then scribbled something down. When he was finished he showed the pad of paper to us. It read _BLUE MEANIES_.

I took a look at the guards again. "Is that what they're called?" John nodded.

"Well, they sure do look mean!" Ringo thought. He was right; after all they had huge piercing eyes and gigantic mouths. Then I also wondered how in the world something like them became Beatle-related…

"Well, with _them_ in the way, how're we gonna get ourselves in now?" I scratched my head. There had to be a way, c'mon Macca, think, think…

John suddenly snapped his fingers and let out air from his mouth. He probably was trying to say _Aha!_ Or something, but, you know…

Ringo smiled. "You got something, Johnny? Well come on then, spill it out!" he eagerly asked.

John was about to speak then remembered he couldn't talk.

"You can draw it, John!" I helped and reached for the pencil and paper. "Over her-what the?"

When I pulled whatever I grasped back, all I held I my palms were clumps of grass. I turned my head and the pencil and paper were no longer there.

"We just leave it there five seconds and someone's taken it!" Ringo exclaimed. "No wonder they arrested George, they're probably dead strict on robbery!" he joked.

I laughed a little and John smiled, then I sighed. "Well, there goes our info. What _happened_ to it, anyway?" It wasn't likely your belongings would disappear when they were less than two feet away from you.

"There's only one solution now…" Ringo and I both looked at John and he raised his eyebrows.

"_Charades!" _We both shouted in unison. John vigorously shook his head at our answer, and we smirked at him. All of us, including George, knew that John was _terrible_ at Charades, even when he was the one acting it out. He had god-awful eyesight, which was a disadvantage to him.

"C'mon John, do you want to save George or not? At least try!" I told him. John rolled his eyes and nodded, and began to act out his plan. He was doing a lot of awkward movements that made no sense to us and Ringo and I snickered so much we weren't getting anywhere.

"Um… a round, a round tree? No, wait, an orange! Is that it?" Ringo was guessing and John face palmed.

"Ooh, lemme try," I moved over. "Err, a giant, slimy… booger?"

John gave up and walked away by himself. In his frustration he stomped on the ground and it cracked a little. We all looked down and a little water seeped out.

"'Ey, I didn't know the ocean went all the way until here!" Ringo kneeled and touched the water. I studied it for a while and guessed that there was probably _something _down there…"

John then jumped and snapped his fingers to get our attention. He had a new plan, and was now pointing to the water and trying to imitate something, a creature of some sort.

"A walrus?" "A sea turtle?" "A _manatee?!"_ We were throwing anything that came to our minds until we got it.

_Wait, wait._ I thought. _Don't' stress too much. Use clues. Lauren mentioned some songs to us when we were playing Rock Band, and one of them was…_

I quickly gave the correct answer without hesitation, and we now had the perfect plan to break into Seltaeb.


	15. Creatures of the Deep

**Hey guys, back again with this story! I don't really know how long ago I'd updated this, but I hope it hasn't been TOO many weeks. I don't even know if you're still reading this…**

**Please guys, I'd really appreciate it if you'd review this story, just to let me know that you're still reading this! I haven't gotten a single review in the past two chapters, and I really don't want to put this story to waste by stopping it…**

Chapter 15: Creatures of the Deep

LAUREN'S POV

"...Lucy? Jeremy? Jude? Fool?"

I squinted with my eyes to get a clearer view of the silhouettes that were getting closer by each second. They were unmistakable figures, and you didn't have to be a genius to know who they were.

I heard Dan growl angrily under his breath and stepped in front of me, trying to block them from rescuing me. All I wanted was to be with John, Paul, George and Ringo again, and it didn't matter if we were in the middle of Nowhere Land, or in Pepperland, or in a yellow submarine. I just wanted to see them and know if they were alright.

I stopped calling them collectively as "The Beatles" too. Ever since I saw their faces for the first time in that alleyway in New York, they'd become the best friends I'd ever had. Now they were more than just a band to me; they were…family.

_No, don't get your hopes up,_ I told myself._ After all this blows over, they're going to have their memories wiped, and they'll forget all about you. You're just another pawn in the chessboard. _

I made myself tear up a little but wiped it away before Dan could notice. I always had these little arguments in my head, because I had been so used to being alone most of my time. I barely had time with my Dad anyway; I didn't even know what he did for a living. And I don't have the slightest memory of my Mum…

"Oh, Lauren! Thank Pepper we've found you!" Jude ran up to me but skidded to a halt when Dan stomped the floor.

"…Well, hello there, Cowboy," Jude glared at Dan and subtly rolled his eyes. "So you decided to take her here, eh?"

"Sod off, Lennon," Dan shot back. I was told that Jude's last name was Lennon as well, since he was based off Julian.

"Dan, just give her back, please." Lucy was firm with her words, and I knew she wanted to end this as soon as possible, just like everyone else. Dan however, was persistent in keeping the conversation flowing until they gave up.

Dan said nothing however, and gave Lucy a look in his eyes. I nearly missed it, but…was he…_pleading_ for something?

"Hey! Your hand!" Fool broke the silence and pointed at the ring I had put on. I didn't really understand what was so important about it, but the others became wide-eyed at the sight of it.

"You-you gave it to her?" Lucy stuttered.

"It's rightfully hers and you know that!" Dan yelled. "Had I kept it any longer it would have been of no use!"

I was startled at Dan's words. He said that the ring had once been mine. I had faint memories of it, sure, but where, how and why?

Then that's when it hit me.

I realized that I barely remembered my childhood at all. A giant gaping hole was planted in the middle of my life. What happened back there?

"…Not a word we want to hear from you any longer! Now let me have it, before it gets stronger!"

I caught the last line to whatever Jeremy rhymed about. And then, with a swift motion, he plucked off the blue ring from my finger with his tiny arm, and stuffed it somewhere in his…err…wool.

Jude raised an eyebrow at Dan. "You can't hold on forever, Dan. You just gotta let go like Maxwell and Bill." He looked at me. "C'mon Lauren, let's go home."

He took my hand and we walked back to whatever brought them here. I knew Dan wasn't trying to stop us this time. I heard him walk back to that dump of a shack and I didn't look back.

….

RINGO'S POV

"C'mon Ringo, you first."

"No, you're going! John and I dug up the hole while you sat on your fat arse, your lame excuse being 'there are only two shovels!'" I slumped on the field while I had yet another useless rant with Paul.

The answer to John's little charade game turned out to be Octopus's Garden. (It's a real shame Paul got the answer, because _I wrote the bloody song._) Well anyway, when John noticed the water seeping out from the cracks in the ground, he guessed the garden was lying right under us.

And now, there was only one way to find out if he was right…

"For the last bleedin' time, _Bongo_, I'm not going until I know whatever the hell is down there!"

"How will you know if you haven't even seen it yet? Youngest goes first anyway?"

"George is the youngest!"

"George isn't even here, you twat. He's the reason why we're doing this in the first place!"

"Oh, you're daft!" Paul breathed out of his nostrils. "Why don't we ask _Johnny_ who should be going fir-um, John?"

I chuckled at Paul. "What up with you? You look like John just went missing all of a sudden or somethi-wait, where's John?!" I stood up and looked around, but the lad was nowhere to be seen.

Paul scratched his nose. "Where d'you reckon he went?"

"How should I know? He was just here with us!" Then I heard something bubble from the waterhole and turned around. Paul noticed it as well and we ran up to it, and looked down like a well.

There was a few seconds of awkward silence, with more bubbles popping up. Then suddenly, a pair of human arms came up and grabbed Paul by the collar, and he was pulled inside.

"What the- !"

I was about to run away in fear but was dragged by the legs and submerged in the water just like Macca. It kept dragging me down and the more I struggled for air.

I panicked too much and eventually, the last bubble of oxygen escaped my lungs and I knew I was doomed. If I wasn't underwater, I would've probably let out a tear or two, so I shut my eyes tight and waited for my demise. I waited…

…and waited, but nothing happened and I confusedly started to look around. I hadn't noticed Paul was next to me and was looking as confused as I probably was.

"Wait, Paul, are we…_breathing underwater?!_" I came to the only conclusion I could think of.

He giggled. "It looks as though we are! Whoa, this is freaky…" He sighed and took another gasp of air-err…water.

"But who-"I knew Paul was thinking the same thing as I was, what just dragged us down here. But I knew the answer as soon as I thought of it and, just with our luck; a third person swam next to us.

"_John_!" We said in glee.

"So _you're_ the bugger that scared us to death, you git!" Paul joked and John playfully hit him on the shoulder but then Paul stopped his laughing abruptly.

"No, seriously. I almost died from fear."

John blushed a bit in shame and gave his mate a "we're good?" look, and Paul and I gave him the thumbs up. John swam and motioned for us to follow when I felt something poke the back of my leg, and I rolled my eyes, not falling for it a second time.

"Haha, _very_ funny, John." I chuckled. "You can stop poking me now…" My laugh shrinked into a little squirm when I realized that both Paul and John were in front of me, John looking a little amused and Paul staring wide-eyed at something above me.

I sighed. "Why it is always me?" And I slowly turned around, finding out what the great creature behind me turned out to be.

"Oh, I come up with the darndest song ideas, don't I?"


End file.
